


Boxed In

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-09 00:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7780015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't the first time Napoleon had ignored Illya's call on his communicator.  But what Illya didn't know was that it could very well be the <i>last</i> time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boxed In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Belphegor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belphegor/gifts).



Illya stared, glumly, at his communicator. It wasn’t the first time Napoleon hadn’t answered his call. He had made peace with that fact; Napoleon’s role in their affairs was to be the outgoing charmer, and that meant giving his attention to other people when Illya could have used a bit of help. He tried not to let it bother him; why should it bother him? By all accounts, it shouldn’t… And yet, it did.

He sighed, looking at the big manor house and hearing the music of the party inside. Realizing that he wasn’t going to be getting Napoleon’s advice, Illya continued patrolling the vast, palatial grounds—past gardens and hedge mazes, and then walking alongside the family cemetery.

Illya looked back at the manor, now pulling out his communicator and trying again; maybe Napoleon would have a free moment now…

“Open channel D…” he began, but he trailed off as he heard the answering whistle of Napoleon’s communicator coming from behind him—in the family cemetery.

A cold fear gripped at Illya’s heart as he clambered over the metal fence, following the communicator’s whistle; the grip tightened as the sound led him to a freshly-covered mound beside some open family plots; digging tools were strewn about in a haste.

“ _Nyet_ …” he gasped.

He seized the nearest shovel and dug; it was only a few inches down that he struck something. Further excavation revealed it to be a large steamer trunk, locked and buried in a shallow grave—and the communicator’s whistle continued to cry from within it.

Adrenaline and some nearby rope gave Illya the strength and leverage he needed to drag the trunk out of the pit; a lock pick did the rest, and he opened the trunk to reveal his partner, crammed into it in a fetal position, his wrists and ankles bound and his mouth gagged. The communicator in his pocket was still whistling, but Napoleon wasn’t reacting; there wasn’t a sign of life, and his face had taken on a frighteningly ashen hue.

“ _Nyet_ … Napoleon…” Illya murmured, as he pulled him out of the trunk, laid him on the ground and then undid the gag. “ _Napoleon_!”

He had a weak pulse, but Illya couldn’t see Napoleon’s chest move at all. Desperate, he held his partner’s nose shut, tilted his head back, covered his mouth with his own, and breathed for him.

He kept watch out of his periphery as Napoleon’s chest finally rose and fell with each breath Illya forced into his chest.

_Napoleon, I swear I will never doubt you again; just breathe!_

At last, Napoleon coughed and sputtered; Illya gave him room as his partner continued to cough. The resulting couple of minutes weren’t pretty, but Illya gently kept a hand on Napoleon’s shoulder as his airway and esophagus were cleared.

At last, Napoleon caught his breath.

“Ill…ya?”

“Shh. I’m calling for an extraction for you,” the Russian said, calm now that the greatest danger had passed. “Mark and April will cover for us.”

Napoleon was too weary and exhausted to argue.

“Thank you…” he murmured, continuing to greedily breathe.

“Of course, Napoleon,” Illya said, still keeping a hand on his shoulder.

The tightness of the Russian’s grip was the only betrayal of how worried he had been. Napoleon noticed, but didn’t say anything—not that he could have, anyway.

After all, had it been the other way, he would have been just as worried, too.

Napoleon shut his eyes now, focusing on his partner’s voice as he called in, relieved to have him by his side.


End file.
